


For A History

by Cyriusli, Mossybrows



Series: Kittypatra Collection [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, background lore, will be updated occasionally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:25:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyriusli/pseuds/Cyriusli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossybrows/pseuds/Mossybrows
Summary: This is a series of smaller works that go with the main story of For A Heart. Here you will find backgrounds and lore that will expand on the plot of the main story. This will cover many characters, but will ultimately revolve around Zoro and Sanji.





	1. Baby Bork

**Author's Note:**

> "Teach him his native tongue, they said. It will be fun, they said. Little shit hasn't stopped barking FOR WEEKS." ~Mihawk, probably

Being a god was easy compared to this.

Mihawk had spent countless eons as the God of Death, watching over the scales and the underworld with only minor incident. He’d created a home out of the dark nightmare known as the underworld and he was fine to spend his free time lounging in his obsidian temple that overlooked the lake of fire.

It was a good life; a simple life and one that Mihawk highly enjoyed. Yet, he felt something was missing and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. It had taken some time to finally pinpoint the exact thing Mihawk was looking to fill the void with, but eventually he figured it out.

Wrapped up in a tattered blanket, Mihawk almost walked passed the bundle until he heard a small whimpering. He’d never once thought of himself as a parent, but the first time he had laid eyes on his son, Mihawk knew that had been what was missing. Zoro, as Mihawk would come to decide his name should be, was one of the smallest beings he’d ever seen. He was a chubby little thing, blinking bleary and clouded eyes up at Mihawk as he waved fisted hands in the air.

Mihawk had never known such great joy and vowed to keep the young child safe from harm. Cradling Zoro in his arms, Mihawk had first gone to the stables, picking out a sleek red jackal pup to stay by his son’s side as he grew. It was Mihawk’s hope that Zoro and the jackal would bond and spend the rest of their lives together, much like the several that Mihawk had himself.

He’d never regretted making a decision as much as he had that one.

Rubbing at his ears, he flattened them back against his head in an attempt to lower the volume of noise that bounced around the room. It was tiring and endless, hurting his ears and giving him a headache. Yet, he had to constantly remind himself, he loved his son, even if all he seemed to do was yell as of late.

Zoro had grown quickly, but was still very young, toddling around the throne room while Mihawk looked on, keeping a watchful eye on him, as well as the rest of his undying kingdom. “Teach him his native tongue,” Mihawk muttered under his breath as another chorus of  _ Bork Bork Bork _ filled the air, accompanied by the high pitched yips of the jackal pup. “It will be a way for you two to bond.”

Mihawk was going to kill Thoth, he was sure of it.

“Bork bork Bork!” Inhaling sharply, Mihawk bit his tongue before he snapped at his son. He knew what Zoro was trying to say, but the fact that he couldn’t pronounce the single word, even after all the time, and all the attempts Mihawk had tried to correct him, was frustrating.

Things were quiet for a moment before Zoro gave a high pitched squeal, something close to a giggle and Mihawk dropped the scroll he was reading to his lap as his ears shot forward in alarm. The pup, who Mihawk was calling “Demon” until Zoro was old enough to name him, was growling, all four feet planted as he tugged at the clothing Zoro was wearing. There was a loud ripping sound and another squeal of joy as Demon ran off with Zoro’s shendyt between his teeth.

Mihawk groaned and rubbed at his temples, knowing he didn’t have the energy to chase after the little red jackal. Shaking his head, he looked back to Zoro, who had his arms out, teetering on one foot as he tried to walk across the floor toward Mihawk.

Sitting up straight in his throne, Mihawk held his breath as he watched his son take his first real steps. Zoro had been crawling around for weeks and was able to stand against things, but he’d never seen the young god actually walk. Three steps in and Zoro faltered, dropping to his hands with his butt in the air as he wagged his tail. “Great job, Zoro,” Mihawk found himself saying, his own tail thumping against the back of his throne as pride swelled in his chest.

Zoro’s ears swiveled toward Mihawk as he picked up his head, the tip of one still drooping down as Zoro gained the strength to hold it up properly. He grinned up at Mihawk, eyes bright as he sputtered, drool trailing down his chin to drop to the polished floor. “Bork Bork Bork!” Childish glee bubbled up Zoro’s throat as he bounced on his hands with each word that left his throat.

Zoro kept bouncing on his hands, the single word repeated each time his hands hit the floor and soon enough he was actually jumping, his entire chubby little body leaping off the floor with each loud  _ Bork _ that came from his mouth. Mihawk sighed, rubbing at his temples. Of course it would be his son that thought himself an actual jackal, jumping around as crazily as a playing pup, instead of trying to learn to walk.

There was a scrabble of nails of stone and Demon was flying back into the room, barking and yipping as he jumped around with Zoro on the floor. Each time Zoro would screech out the single word— “BORK!” —and the jackal would yip back, as they jumped around the room, their combined high pitched voices only making Mihawk’s headache worse.

He wasn’t going to get any work done, Mihawk was sure of it. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily, resigning his afternoon to listening to his son pronounce his name wrong over and over again, while his pup played along with him. Resting his chin in his hand, Mihawk leaned his elbow on the arm of his throne and sorta dozed on and off. He was aware of the commotion around him, however, perking up when the noise suddenly stopped.

Thinking something was wrong, he sat up straight, looking around the room and only finding Demon sprawled on the floor, all four feet in the air as he slept. Tipping his head to the side, Mihawk perked his ears forward, wondering where his son could have gotten off to, when he felt a tug on his shendyt. Looking down, Zoro was looking back up at him, his golden eyes bright as he grinned up at Mihawk, small canines poking out of his otherwise toothless gums.

“Bahk,” Zoro questioned, his mouth forming awkwardly as he actually said the word correctly, tugging on Mihawk’s clothing as he did.

“That’s right.” Reaching down, Mihawk picked his son up, placing a still naked Zoro in his lap as he twisted his head to look at him. “Bahk; father in our native tongue.”

Zoro squealed again, the sound much louder with him being so close. On the floor, Demon twitched his sleep, rolling over and groggily sitting up at the sound of Zoro’s voice. “Bork,” the young god screeched and Mihawk sighed heavily. At least now he knew for sure, Zoro knew how to actually pronounce the word, even if he never seemed to use it.


	2. Legend of Ryuma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryuma, legendary warrior within the Army of Anubis, tragically fell to the evil that is the god, Set. Just a quick history lesson for a young Zoro as he goes to get his first weapon.

“When the gods were still young and fought mostly amongst themselves, a young jackal warrior named Ryuma quickly rose up among the ranks of my army. He was a brutal fighter; swift and agile, graceful and cunning. Ryuma and his companion, a white jackal named Ichimonji, shown brighter than any other. I rewarded this greatness and named Ryuma a general within the Army of Anubis. There he, and Ichimonji, fought until all the battles had ended.

“Peace flooded the gods realm and the time for armies was put aside. Now, skirmishes would still arise, so I made Ryuma the head of my guard and it was his job to command all of the guards who looked after the palace and temple grounds. The rest of the army dispersed throughout the underworld, creating homes for themselves and waiting, in near silence, in hopes I would have need for them to fight once more.

“Time passed, as it always does, and even Ryuma would grow restless, taking Ichimonji for long walks around the underworld. A favorite pastime of theirs was to walk to the lake of fire. Unfortunately, it would be there that would be their undoing.

“While out for a walk one day, Ryuma and Ichimonji were attacked by the god, Set. Set is an evil god, looking only for ways to further his powers. He’d heard rumors of Ryuma’s eyes— eyes that had the ability to see the innocence in people— and decided he needed them for himself. He set a trap for Ryuma and Ichimonji, pleased when they both fell into it without the slightest bit of warning to its presence. Ryuma was outraged by the incident, but kept his head, freeing Ichimonji before himself. This is also where Set made a grave mistake.

“Instead of pouncing right away, Set laughed and watched as Ryuma struggled in his bonds, only acting once the jackal was free by revealing himself, in his towering form, as the mastermind behind the trap. Ichimonji stepped between Set and her master, but Set easily kicked the jackal aside before descending upon Ryuma. Unable to free himself, Ryuma could do nothing but lay there, on the cold obsidian ground, as Set gouged his eyes from their sockets, setting them aside to kill Ryuma. Ichimonji appeared, returning too late to aid her master, but she was able to find his eyes, abandoned in Set’s foolishness, as he killed Ryuma in front of her.

“Ichimonji was furious, fleeing with her master’s eyes and hiding them away so Set could not find them and use them for whatever evil it was she knew he would attempt. Leading him away from their location, Ichimonji avoided Set’s capture until she was sure Ryuma’s eyes were truly safe, then she turned and faced her master’s murderer. In the end, Set killed her as well. Both Ichimonji, and the whereabouts of Ryuma’s eyes, have been lost to us.” Mihawk walked across the armory toward the forge, hands behind his back. He’d brought Zoro to the weapon smith in hopes of getting his young son a weapon of his own. On the way, he’d told Zoro the tale of Ryuma, in hopes of getting his attention and sparking an interest in learning to fight.

The master armorer was a large dark skinned man, easily wielding a hammer as he worked to form a heated piece of metal against his anvil. As soon as he noticed Mihawk, he set the hammer down, calling over another to continue to craft the weapon he was working on. “How can I be of assistance to you,” he asked, bobbing his head in a nod of greeting.

“I came to see if we could arm my son.” Mihawk raised his hand, meaning to rest it on Zoro’s head, but he had seemed to have vanished from Mihawk’s side. “Zoro?” Turning, he frowned, unable to spot the boy, or his jackal, from where he stood in the back of the armory. “Zoro,” he called again, taking a step back the way he’d just come from. Next to him, Yoru huffed and Mihawk looked down to the black jackal, inhaling to yell for his son a third time.

“Bahk!” Zoro’s voice sounded from another room of the armory. “Look what I found!” Zoro appeared, backing out of a small room while dragging a white non-descriptive staff after him. Kitetsu ran around him barking as he went, tail wagging happily. “Can I have this?”

“Zoro,” Mihawk started, his frown still in place. “You mustn’t treat a weapon like that. Pick that up.”

The young god paused, grunting under the weight of the staff as he tried to pick it up off the floor. He didn’t make it far, but Zoro was, in fact, able to lift the long, heavy staff off the ground. Mihawk was wholeheartedly impressed with the strength his son showed.

“Anubis,” the master of arms spoke up. “If he wishes to use a staff, I have some smaller ones, better suited for young jackals, such as himself.”

“No,” Zoro interrupted, still struggling to lift the staff. His ears were tilted back against his head, a frown of his own etched onto his young face as he concentrated. “I want this one,” he grunted, finally managing to shift the staff upright.

“Zoro,” Mihawk started, trying to reason with his son. “That staff is meant for an adult, it’s much too big for you to wield currently. Let’s find a smaller one that is better suited for your size. You should listen to the master armorer, he knows of what he speaks.”

“I want this one!” Using both hands, Zoro slammed the butt of the staff against the floor, holding it tightly in his grasp. Turning from what he was sniffing, Kitetsu ran to Zoro’s side and sat next to him, reacting to the sound the staff made on the stone, even without being taught. The staff was a couple feet taller than himself, but Zoro was holding firm in his decision, tail held stiff and ears flat back against his hair in his anger.

Mihawk rubbed at his temples as the master armorer chuckled beside him. “He is your son, Anubis.”

“I know. Zoro,” Mihawk placed a hand on the shoulder of the man standing next to him. “Put the staff aside and let’s see what else there is in the armory for you.”

“I am keeping this staff.” Zoro’s grip tightened around the weapon as he squared his shoulders and stood up to his full height, glaring up at Mihawk. Kitetsu mimicked Zoro’s actions and Mihawk huffed in annoyance. There was a defiance there, one Mihawk could recognize as the one he’d taught Zoro himself: challenge everything.

Mihawk resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, Zoro was indeed his son. “Yes, you can keep the staff, but all Anubis Warriors also learn to use a scimitar, among other weapons. Every warrior is a true master of weaponry. You must learn to master several weapon styles as well, if you are to become an Anubis Warrior.”

Zoro nodded sharply, his mouth set in a hard line. “Yes, Father.”

“Very good.” Walking over to him, Mihawk reached out for the staff, only to have Zoro yank it away with a growl, almost toppling over with the heavy weight of it. Snapping a hand out, Mihawk grabbed the staff to steady Zoro and the weapon, but his son pulled the weapon away again, this time almost hitting both Yoru and Kitetsu in the process.

“No,” Zoro started, baring his teeth as he continued to growl. “I said I’m going to keep it.”

“I agreed you could.” Dropping his arm to his side, Mihawk frowned down at the boy, whose ears were still pressed flat against his hair in anger. “How do you expect to look at other weapons while holding that staff?”

“I don’t  _ want _ another weapon, I want this one.” Zoro squared his little shoulders and held onto the staff tightly, glaring up at Mihawk again. Despite his anger, Mihawk could see the very tip of Zoro’s tail wagging in hopes that Mihawk would cave and let him have his way. Next to him, Kitetsu was pleading in his own way, head tilted to the side slightly with his ears forward and his golden eyes looking up at Mihawk.

What choice did he really have? Mihawk took a deep breath and was about to speak, when the master armorer spoke up behind him. “Maybe starting him with a scimitar isn’t the right path for him. Why don’t we look at the rest of the staffs.”

Zoro’s ears twisted forward and he grinned. “Really? Can we, Bahk?”

“Well, I—”

“I still want this one!” Zoro shifted his grip on the white weapon, grunting under its weight as he moved passed Mihawk toward the blacksmith. “I’m keeping this one.”

Turning to watch Zoro fumble under the weight of the staff, his jackal walking calmly next to him, Mihawk shook his head. Even at such a young age, when Zoro’s mind was made up, that was that.


	3. Feast of Isis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro celebrates the Feast of Isis every year in honor of when she pulled Set's curse from him. Only this year, he seems to have some doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!!  
> I actually meant to have this out a day or two ago, but time caught up with me. One of two short pieces from me this month that expands on the story and lore of For A Heart. This is set before Zoro and Sanji meet, and introduces us to a new character, as well as gives us more lore on Zoro.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Zoro woke early in the morning. It was dark in his room and he could hear his jackals snoring from where they surrounded him on the bed. Rolling over, he lit the small oil lamp he had and sat up, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes before getting up to get dressed and put on his armor. He tried to be quiet, but his jackals woke and by the time he was done putting on his breastplate, all three of his jackals were sitting before him, staring up at him intently.

Even in the dimness of the lamp light, Zoro could see the shine of their ornaments, each of them wearing their very best, crafted specifically for this day. Even the cloth covering Kitetsu’s eyes was made of woven gold, expertly woven by only the very best of the underworld. Yesterday Zoro had spent most of the day preparing for this one, the day of the Feast of Isis. It was the one day a year that Zoro asked to have for his own and given how important it was to him, his father had granted him two days, one to prepare and one to honor the goddess, Isis.

Looking in the polished metal that served for a mirror, Zoro ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the black strands. It was a small price to pay, he figured, the black matched his ears anyway. Turning to his guard, Zoro picked up his helm, tucking it under his arm as he reached for his staff. “Let us go,” he spoke quietly, leaning down to blow out his oil lamp. “I want to be at the shrine as early as we can be and I need to stop to pick flowers still.”

The Feast of Isis hadn’t always been important to Zoro. In fact, growing up he could remember not really caring about it all, preferring to take the day and spend it running around the lake of fire with Kitetsu and looking forward to seeing his older sister. But after his encounter with Set, and Isis coming to the underworld to try and remove the curse Set had put on him, Zoro had never been more grateful. After everything Isis had done for him, Zoro had taken a new approach to the days of her worship, and ever since, he had made an effort to pay homage to her on the day of her feast.

With his jackals at his side, Zoro entered the garden that grew along one side of the Palace of Anubis and Zoro’s home. It was quiet around the palace still, most of the inhabitants still asleep. Drawing a small knife Zoro had brought with him, he started looking for and cutting only the best flowers he could find. A bouquet of the underworld’s finest flowers— dark blue sapphire poppies, obsidian roses, purple irises, blood red ruby daisies, and several others he didn’t actually know the names to. Once Zoro felt he had enough flowers, he called to his jackals, who had wandered a little while he searched, and they all made their way to the small Temple of Isis.

Compared to the Temple of Anubis, the Temple of Thoth and the Temple of Horus, the Temple of Isis was small, a barely there cut out hole in the side of the obsidian, but it was still there and still taken care of. Zoro had made sure of that after she had left. That very afternoon, his eye sight restored and his hair a mess, Zoro had gone to the temple, finding it in disrepair. He’d demanded of his father that priests be assigned to it and the temple restored to its previous status. Thankfully, Anubis hadn’t argued and ever since, the Temple of Isis had been maintained.

Zoro stepped inside quietly, his jackals surrounding him as Kitetsu led them to the base of Isis’ feet. With the exception of the one brazier that always burned, it was dark in the temple, casting strange shadows across the walls and the statue of the goddess. The black obsidian statue was a just likeness, but it did nothing when compared to the actual grace and beauty of the goddess. Isis shone brightly, the aura around her the only one of the gods that wasn’t the black void he’d grown used to. Isis had a dim glow about her, barely noticeable, but it was still there and that image of her, with her wings spread behind her as she rested a hand on the crown of his head, would never leave Zoro.

Carefully, with all three of his jackals crowding him, Zoro knelt down and laid the flowers at the statue’s feet. Looking up to Isis’ face, the low fire light making her eyes dance with the shadows, Zoro stood before carefully moving around the temple area. He lit the other braziers so the goddess was bathed in full light, lit incense and made sure his jackals didn’t cause any trouble or tip over any of the offerings that were already there. It was the one day of the year where Zoro paid attention to every little detail, not that he normally didn’t, but he felt hypersensitive to it on this day, and everything needed to be as perfect as he could get it.

Zoro had never been one to actually pray to any of the gods, even his own father, but Zoro knew Isis would see what he was doing and would welcome anything that he had to offer. He stayed, just quietly mulling around the temple, and making sure everything was in its proper place, until he could hear the temple priests stirring. Taking one last look around the temple, not wanting to interrupt the priests morning, Zoro tapped his staff on the flooring to get his jackals attention, then he slipped out, deciding to take the long walk home around the lake of fire before his presence would be required at breakfast.

Growing up, it was always understood that he would show his face at any of the feasts or festivals that honored the gods. He was the son of one of the most important gods and because of that, he needed to show the respect and discipline that all Warriors of Anubis showed. Zoro didn’t mind that part so much, even now, but he was always thankful when it was over, as well. The jackals of the underworld would all be in attendance and the glow from their auras was maddeningly bright to him. Zoro had never been more thankful for the year he had finally gotten his armor, the magic crafted into his helm allowing him to see everything in muted tones and making the situations that much more bearable.

As soon as the lake was visible, Yubashiri ran ahead, snapping at the small little lizards and barking at anything that even remotely looked like it could move. Chuckling, Zoro looked down to the other two, who while whining and wanting to go, stayed by his side. “Go on,” he started, waving a hand out toward where Yubashiri was scratching at the rocks, trying to get at a lizard that was lucky enough to escape to safety. “Go get him.”

Shusui took off, running down the path to catch up with Yubashiri, tail wagging and barking, before he plowed into the other jackal, knocking them both over, and ending with a play fight erupting in the middle of the path. Kitetsu hung back, trotting a few paces ahead of Zoro before deciding that he would rather stay at Zoro’s side, looking up to him with his sightless gaze and wagging his tail.

Reaching out, Zoro scratched behind one of his jackal’s ears, before turning back to where he was walking and watching his other jackals. He missed days like this, where he could simply take his time and do what it was he wanted, but he had the scales to watch and Zoro had always taken his positions within his father’s command seriously.

Ahead of him, Yubashiri and Shusui ran off, barking and yipping as they rounded a corner around a large rock. Kitetsu trotted after them, almost running into the rock as he cut the corner just a little too close. Zoro shook his head and sighed, following along. He could hear his jackals barking, but suddenly there seemed to be more than just his three and Zoro started jogging, wanting to make it around the corner before there was too much trouble caused. Before he could even make it to the large rock, Yubashiri came running back around the corner as fast as he could with what appeared to be a bone in his mouth, Shusui and Kitetsu right behind him.

Zoro didn't even have time to figure out where his jackals had gotten a bone, before someone screamed his name and around the corner came his sister, Perona, her weird undead jackal limping along behind her. Stifling a laugh, Zoro looked down at the poor pitiful excuse of a jackal and cleared his throat. “I take it that was, um, his leg Yubashiri had.”

Perona glared at Zoro, crossing her arms as her ears flattened back against her hair. She never touched the ground, floating a little more than a hand’s width above it and making the edge of her dress fan out around her to cover her bare feet. From just above each shoulder her other two jackals swirled into existence, their grayish ethereal forms bobbing quietly as black eyes stared at Zoro. “I didn’t even know you were out here! I was heading to the temple for the yearly gathering.”

“Yeah, I was, as well. I am on my way back from the temple of Isis, but I decided to take the long way back.” Turning, Zoro called out to his jackals and a moment later all three of them came running to stand as his feet. Carefully, he took the bone from Yubashiri, who thankfully gave it up willingly, and handed it over to Perona. She huffed and rolled her eyes before bending down to reattach it to her jackal’s hip. Zoro watched quietly, not entirely sure how the poor creature stayed together. Kumashi was more dead than he was alive, with chunks of fur and flesh missing across his body. In some places, the jackal was simply bone, like the leg Yubashiri had stolen and in other places, he seemed to look like any other jackal. The soulless black eyes seemed to stare through the person they were looking at, which always sent a chill down Zoro’s spine despite how comical he looked with only having half a jaw and his grayed tongue constantly hanging out as if Kumashi were panting. Zoro was sure the gold and sapphire ornaments he wore were the only things keeping Kumashi together.

“Well, we better get going then, Zoro. Father isn’t going to be happy if we are both late to breakfast.” Straightening, Perona put her hands on her hips and leaned back a little, floating quietly in the air with her hollow jackals.

Zoro hummed in agreement, nodding as he fell in next to his sister and the two started back to the Palace of Anubis and their home. “So,” Perona started a minute later, her two ethereal jackals swooping back and forth in front of them as the remaining four led the way. “How’s things been? I see you’re hair is still black.” Reaching out, she scrubbed a hand through Zoro’s hair.

Zoro leaned away, growling as he flattened his ears, tail stiffening in annoyance. “Of course it is. Yours is still pink.”

“I’m trying to not make you feel so bad about what happened. I like your hair, I think the black is ridiculous.” Patting Zoro on the top of the head again, Perona picked up the end of one of her braids, stroking her hand along the length of pink hair.

“You’re ridiculous,” Zoro muttered under his breath, gripping a little tighter to his staff in his hand. “My hair has always been black, just like my ears and tail. Your hair being pink makes your ears looks so stupid.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my ears!” Reaching up, Perona tugged on one of her ears, the black fur a shocking contrast to her pink hair. “Come on, there’s the palace; we better hurry.”

Zoro looked up from where he had been watching the jackals. Ahead of them stood two of the palace guards, their ears perked forward in question as they watched Zoro and Perona approach the palace. The two guards greeted them warmly, telling them that Anubis was in his throne room, waiting for their arrival and that they best hurry along.

Perona crossed her arms as Zoro scowled, neither of them pleased with being told by the guards on where to be and when. They had plenty of time before they needed to meet with their father. Once they were walking the massive halls, Perona leaned a little closer to Zoro, watching as they walked. Neither of them feared the palace guards, but they had quickly learned that despite who they were, they still needed to be careful of those who would tell the god their conversations. “In all seriousness, how are things between you and Father?”

“Still the same,” Zoro grumbled, watching the jackals walk ahead of them. The four of them had fanned out, making a line between Zoro and Perona and the rest of the palace. “He’s distant and doesn’t act the same around me. It all started after Isis tried to pull the curse from me. It’s one of the reasons I keep my hair black.”

“I guess that makes sense then,” Perona nodded. She had been there the day Isis had come to pull the curse from Zoro and had witnessed first hand the efforts Isis had put into restoring Zoro to his former person. “He still hasn’t told you what Isis said to him?”

“No, and I don’t think he ever plans on it. He looks at me sometimes, almost as if he’s thinking of a way to get rid of me. I don’t know what I did, Perona, to anger him so much.” Zoro ran a hand through his hair, tail drooping as he did so. “I always try so hard to stay in his favor and be the best. Yet, after this, and being charged with the scales, I can’t help but think he’s trying to tether me.”

“He is,” Perona shrugged a shoulder, reaching out a hand as one of her hollow jackals swooped by. “He hasn’t allowed you to go anywhere since that day, has he? I’m surprised you are allowed to roam the lake.”

“I do what I want when I can, but the scales takes up most of my time. The wars are getting worse, I am sure you have noticed that.”

“I have,” Perona nodded, cutting herself off as the two approached the doors to the throne room. Glancing at one another, Zoro made sure to lace his fingers with his sister’s when Perona reached for his hand. They didn’t get to see each other that much anymore, but despite outward appearances, they had always been rather close. “Are you ready,” she asked quietly, all four of their jackals taking position around them and forming a protective barrier.

“As I will ever be,” Zoro nodded before reaching out to touch the large doors. They had been crafted with magic and even the slightest touch would open them, allowing whoever it was wanting to enter access with little to no effort.

As one, they all stepped into the throne room, making sure to present themselves as the gods that they were for the crowd they knew would be on the other side. At the far end of the hall sat Anubis on his throne, a large crowd of jackals already waiting to catch a first glimpse of Zoro and Perona. “The Son and Daughter of Anubis,” one of the guards called out, announcing them as they walked down the path to stand at their father’s feet.

Anubis looked at them each in turn, making Zoro square his shoulders when he met his father’s eyes before both Zoro and Perona took their places on either side of Anubis’ feet. Perona kept her eyes straight ahead, as did Zoro, but he could see one of her ears cocked toward him if he cast a sidelong glance across to that side of the room. They were always listening and watching out for one another and Zoro had lost count of the number of times Perona had told him the story of the day Anubis had brought him home.

It took all Zoro had to remain expressionless as Anubis stood and started his speech to begin the day and the festivities for the Feast of Isis. He stared unseeing at the crowd ahead of him, their blue-white glow a blurred smear as he listened to his father’s words. It hadn’t occurred to Zoro until that moment that it was possible that the reason Anubis was suddenly so cold to him was because Isis had been able to tell that Zoro wasn’t truly the god’s flesh and blood. A demigod and a powerful force to be reckoned with, but Zoro didn’t share the blood of his father and sister. Maybe Isis had figured that out and told Anubis to separate Zoro from the royal family.

The attack and curse of Set would have been the perfect excuse to use to push Zoro to the scales and keep him close, but still at a distance from the royal family. He could feel a whine build in the back of his throat as cheers erupted from the crowd. Zoro suddenly felt conflicted about this day and where he stood in it. He was a warrior in his father’s army, a commander and leader among it and yet, did he actually belong there? The last person to hold a command such as Zoro’s was Ryuma, the legendary warrior of the Anubis Army, and he hadn’t been a god either.  He wanted nothing more than to leave the throne room and recenter his thoughts, figure out exactly where it was he stood in this place.

Anubis sat back down and Zoro looked up to him, finally letting the low whine escape him. He wouldn’t be able to remain here for much longer at this point, which was disappointing, as Zoro usually liked to talk with the jackals and trade stories. Zoro liked to listen to the older warriors talk of a time when there had been a need to fight and defend the underworld; when the gods fought amongst themselves and the world was in utter chaos.

Today he wouldn’t be able to do that.

“Perona,” Zoro hissed, keeping his voice low.

One of her ears cocked toward him again and she slowly turned her head to face him, raising an eyebrow at him in question. “What?”

Zoro jerked his head toward the side door, the tip of his tail wagging. At his feet, his jackals whined and pranced on their front feet, sensing how anxious Zoro was about his new found thoughts. “Can we talk?”

“Now,” she balked, flinging a hand out to the crowd in front of them. Within the large throne room, attendants from the kitchens were beginning to bring large platters full of food to the tables that had been set up.

“Yes, now.” Zoro gripped his staff tightly.

“This is  _ your _ feast,” she scolded. “The one you demand to be at every year.”

“I know that,” Zoro growled back. He paused, looking up to Anubis, then back to his sister. “Please.”

Rolling her eyes, Perona moved across to him and huffed. “This better be good.”

Zoro didn’t say anything, just turned and made his way toward the side door, through the group of people. He was stopped several times in attempts to start conversation and Zoro had to excuse himself and carry on until he was standing at the door, pushing his shoulder against it to open it. His jackals slipped out ahead of him and Zoro took one last look at his father before Perona and him went out into a smaller hall that was currently abandoned in favor of the feast.

“What do you want, Zoro?” Perona bobbed quietly from where she was, her ears relaxed against her hair.

“I think I figured out what Isis said to Father.”

“What’s that?” Perona’s ears perked forward and she cocked her head to the side. Her two hollow jackals swooped in front of her and off to the side, Zoro could hear the other four playing and growling at one another.

“Isis must have figured out that I am not actually your blood.”

Perona scoffed. “Come on, Isis is a lot of things, but she’s not one to shun people based on blood.”

“No, but Father is.”

Perona inhaled to speak, but stopped, closing her mouth and nodding. “You going to the scales would make a lot of sense then,” she started quietly. “A way to keep you close because of Set, yet far enough away from the palace.” Frowning, she shook her head. “This is ridiculous, Zoro. If that was true, why would Anubis, God of the Dead, put you in charge of the scales?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, he’s your father.”

“Oh for Ra’s sake, listen to what you are saying, Zoro.”

“You have told me time and time again about how Father simply found me and brought me home one day. Are we even sure I’m a god?”

“Zoro, listen to yourself.” Perona crossed her arms and shook her head. “You are my brother and, yes, it’s true you are part mortal, but both Father and I could feel the power in you. So could Set, that’s why he attacked you. No mortal could stand up to him the way you did.” Zoro opened his mouth to speak, but Perona held up a hand to stop him. “Not even Ryuma, because I know that’s who you are going to say. He was mortal, Zoro, and he was killed by Set. You are not. A demigod, yes, but mortal, no. I don’t think Father would have declared you his son if you were simply a mortal jackal.”

“Something doesn’t add up, though.” Zoro ran his hands into his hair, flattening his ears back and whining again. “Why, after Isis pulled the curse from me, did Father turn his back to me?”

“I don’t know.” Perona shook her head and looked away. “He won’t tell me either. What about Isis?”

“Father won’t let me out of his sight when we go to the gods realm and she never answers when I try to call to her.” Zoro closed his eyes and dropped his arms to his sides. “Is this the life I am supposed to lead? To watch the scales?”

“It’s only the most important job of the underworld. If I were you, I would push this silly notion from your mind and go back to being the proud son of the God of the Dead. Hesitation and uncertainty do not look good on you, baby brother.”

“Don’t call me that,” Zoro muttered. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and exhaled. “All right. I will do so. You’re right. I have just been so concerned what regaining Father’s favor that I lost sight of who it is I truly am.”

“The Son of Anubis, feared warrior and commander in his armies,” Perona asked, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

Zoro grinned, gripping his staff tightly. “Precisely.”


	4. Feast of Sekhmet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each year Sanji, and the rest of the palace and temple, host for the day during the Feast of Sekhmet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

**** Sanji woke early. Unlike most morning where it took him a few moments to blink away sleep, he was wide awake and jumping out of bed ready to start the day. He didn’t bother with his typical routine, forgoing the time spent bathing and putting on all his jewels. He was have no use of them today. Instead of his normally lavish clothing, Sanji chose to wear a simple light shendyt, reserved specifically for this day and a simple crown made of woven gold that blended in with his hair. Humming lowly to himself, Sanji stepped out of his room into the hall, the two guards posted outside his door wishing him a good morning. It was still dark in most of the palace, the sun still sleeping, but Sanji had no trouble finding his way. His enhanced sight brought him easily to where he needed to be and Sanji pushed through the curtain that separated the kitchen from the dining hall with a huge smile on his face.

Sanji worked his way through the kitchen, careful to not bump into anyone as he did. Several attendants, along with the human head chef were busy working, but Sanji walked past them toward the back entrance, wanting to start his day in the temple. Pushing through the curtain that served as a door into the garden, he was delighted to see the sun beginning to rise, making it officially the day of his Mother’s feast. He’d always enjoyed celebrating the Feast of Sekhmet. He sort of saw it as his mother’s birthday, even though she didn’t have one the same way Sanji and everyone else at the palace did. Still, it made Sanji happy to be able to make his mother feel special on this particular day.

Walking slowly through the gardens, Sanji picked the most beautiful of the morning flowers for his mother. White lilies and roses, as well as lotus flowers which would need to be placed in water at his mother’s feet. Around him the gardens were quiet, the sun just beginning to rise over the tops of the buildings and slipping to the ground, bathing the gardens in the early golden rays of the sun. Sanji hoped it stayed this nice, such a beautiful morning had to give way to a beautiful day and his mother deserved nothing less.

Entering the temple, the cooler air caressed his face as Sanji walked over to stand at the statue at his mother’s feet. Kneeling, he placed the flowers down before bowing his head in a silent pray to his mother. He hoped she heard him and even if she was unable to visit, enjoyed her day.

“Master Sanji.”

Sanji picked his head up, ears swiveling toward the sound of his name, seeing Priestess Vivi, accompanied by the rest of the temple’s priestesses, walking toward him. Every single one of them were dressed in thin white linen, showing their positions, but under their dresses, Sanji could also clearly see the dagger they each wore strapped to their thigh. Everyone within the walls of Sanji’s temple and palace was able to protect themselves and he couldn’t help the grin as he stood, greeting Priestess Vivi and the others with open arms. “Good morning! Are you all prepared for today? Do you need anything from the kitchens as part of your morning offerings?”

“No, I think we are all set,” Priestess Vivi nodded, waving a hand toward the others, each carrying some sort of offering to lay at the feet of the statue. “We are thankful to see you so early this morning. The flowers are beautiful.”

“I thought so, as well.” Sanji stepped back, giving the priestesses space to work, before turning back to Priestess Vivi. “I will leave you to your work. Join us for breakfast as soon as you are able to. I want everyone to be there as soon as possible. I am sure Nebit has already sent out guards to help with the travel of the villagers. If you require anything, please come find me.”

“Yes, Master Sanji, you know we will be there.” Smiling, Priestess Vivi gently squeezed Sanji’s arm before turning her attention to her morning rituals. Satisfied that Priestess Vivi was had everything she needed for the moment, Sanji turned back for the kitchens to help with the prep work and cooking that would be done throughout the course of the day.

The kitchen was just as busy when he returned as when he had left, and Sanji made his way across to Zeff where he jumped right in to help. “You’re late,” the older man scoffed, the smallest hint of a smile curving the corners of his mouth.

“I am not.” Sanji countered as he flicked his tail in irritation, removing one of the aprons from the wall as he looked over to the man who had spoken. Zeff had his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Sanji. He was human, the only human that resided in the palace, but he held a special place in Sanji’s heart and so Zeff had been allowed to remain within Sanji’s home without being changed. “The sun is barely over the mountain.”

“The rest of the kitchen attendants were here long ago, Pomegranate.”

Sanji rolled his eyes before moving over to the side table where Zeff stood. “I woke early and I am here. I’ve already been to the temple. Let’s not worry about what time it is, let’s just begin preparing for our day. Mother’s feast is today and I want it to be the best one yet.”

“It will be, don’t worry about that; it will be.” Zeff nodded and waved a hand toward the table. “We have already begun with making bread, letting it rise before going into the ovens. Nebit,” Zeff remarked pointedly. “She was up before you, too, you know—”

“I’m sure she was,” Sanji grumbled.

“She already sent out guards to the surrounding villages to invite them back to the palace for the feast this afternoon. I sent a handful of attendants to kill the livestock: a cow, two sheep and two goats, and one of the first guards brought back a small crocodile she found, so we have that as well. There are also several birds that are being prepared; geese and duck; fish. Nebit said she had previously spoken to several of the village elders and that they were honored at the idea of them bringing fruits and other such things. Your idea of including the villages like that has gone over well. There will be plenty of food.”

Sanji nodded as he listened to Zeff talk, looking around to see what was going on in the kitchen. Everyone was working steadily and seemed to be enjoying the preparations. Sanji could feel the hum of energy in the air. “Where has Nebit gone now? Breakfast will be soon and then her and I will have to attend to the mortals all day.”

“I’m sure she has gone to prepare for that. Unlike you, she actually has a job to do around here.”

“I have a job,” Sanji flicked his tail and flattened his ears back against his hair. “If it wasn’t for me, none of this would even be here. I help protect the palace and temple as much as the next person.”

Zeff chuckled, handing Sanji a large bowl with bread dough in it. “That’s done rising, Pomegranate. Would you divide it so it can be made into loaves and baked?”

Sanji nodded, submerging himself in the prepwork for the feast and letting time slip by him. He joked around with the attendants, as well as the people coming in and out of the kitchens. Everyone took a break to eat, the entire palace filling the dining hall for breakfast and start the celebration of the day. Those few guards who were posted to keep a look out around the palace were brought plates to eat at their posts and as soon as the next round of guards were done eating, they went to relieve the previous ones. Nebit had arranged for everyone to have shorter patrol times so that everyone could experience the festivities throughout the day.

Just as the breakfast cleanup was completed, one of the guards came over to where Sanji and Nebit were sitting, gently placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “The first of the villages has arrived.”

“Thank you,” Sanji stood as he pushed from the table. “I will go change, please let them know that Nebit and myself will be there shortly.”

Without a word the guard nodded and left and Sanji followed them, turning back toward his room to change into his outfit for the rest of the day. Long ago, matching outfits for both him and Nebit had been made; white silk that matched the fur of their ears and tails with blue and gold trim. A jeweler made them matching crowns as well, white spun gold inlaid with sapphires, but Sanji and Nebit only ever wore them on this day, the feast to his mother, when they both were expected to entertain the local villages. Not that Nebit and Sanji weren’t involved with them regularly, but they seemed to expect the appearance of them together for the Feast of Sekhmet and both Nebit and Sanji had given up long ago trying to fight it.

Sanji walked back down the hall toward the throne room, meeting Nebit right outside the doors. She looked stunning, almost as if she were a different person. Sanji was so used to seeing her in her armor and relaxed, that he always forgot how beautiful she was dressed up. A true daughter of royalty. Raising his arm, he grinned at her. “Shall we, Nebit?”

She rolled her eyes, taking his arm and flicking the end of her tail, making the bangles clink together. “One of the reasons I agreed to stay here was so I didn’t have to do this anymore.”

“It’s only one day. Besides, this is your kingdom, is it not?” Sanji cocked an ear toward her, feeling her grip tightening along his arm. “I won’t leave your side, you know that. We will get through this together.”

“I do better as your advisor and counsel, than I do a queen.”

“Every kingdom needs a queen.” Sanji leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Tomorrow let’s go hunting.”

Nebit’s claws dug into Sanji’s skin and he knew it was from nerves. Even after all this time, all these years at his side, she was still unsure of herself when she needed to act the part of her kingdom’s ruling matriarch. “That would be great. I have missed spending time with you, My Prince.”

“It has been awhile since we were able to shrug off our duties to the palace and temple, hasn’t it?”

“It certainly has.” Nodding sharply, Nebit took a deep breath and motioned to the guard standing by the door to announce their entry. “I look forward to being able to just relax and be myself for a little while.”

“When do I ever ask more of you,” Sanji answered, squaring his shoulders and preparing himself to be bombarded by the cheers of the villagers they were about to greet. “Ready?”

“No.”

“May I present,” the guard started, pulling aside the thick and heavy curtain that served as the door to the throne room. There was a moment before the room went deathly quiet and the guard continued. “Pharaoh Sanji and Queen Nebit.”

As Sanji and Nebit stepped out from under the archway into the throneroom, the entire crowd of villagers started cheering. The sound was deafening and Sanji pressed his ears back into his hair, trying to remain calm and composed for Nebit. She walked with him, waving and smiling as people called to them both, but her grip on his arm was dangerously tight. They made it to his throne without incident, both sitting on the plush pillows and letting the crowd settle down themselves. Once they had, Sanji stood, raising his arms and grinning. He enjoyed this, he really did. Seeing all these people here to celebrate his mother with him always made him so happy. “Thank you for coming,” he yelled out across the room, watching for the nods from the guards on the far side of the room to make sure everyone could hear. No one thought about it, but truly this was a well executed plan down to the smallest of details.

“It is an honor. Nebit and I welcome you to our home to celebrate this day. The kitchen has been preparing since last night for the Feast of Sekhmet that will take place later today. In the meantime, please, feel free to explore the palace, the gardens and the temple. Myself, Nebit, my guards and attendants are all at your service.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and praise once more. Calls of Sanji’s name, Nebit’s and even his mother rang out as Sanji sat back down. While most of the villagers would take leave of the room to go and do exactly as Sanji encouraged, a few would remain with offerings to him and the palace. Every item offered was simple— cloth or food or something of the sort— nothing nearly as extravagant as the things Sanji was used to receiving, but he appreciated them just the same. The simple cloth would have been made out of love and caring, instead of bought as a trinket to win his favor. The villagers genuinely loved and cared for Sanji, Nebit and the rest of the attendants, and they all cared for the villagers as well. It was a great community they had built in the southern corner of the lands. The palace’s small grounds had grown into a thriving kingdom thanks to Nebit and Sanji couldn’t have been happier for her if he had tried to be.

Once everyone had gone from the room, Sanji leaned back in the throne with a groan and Nebit sighed heavily as she leaned against him. “Should be time for the feast soon,” Nebit flicked an ear, her earrings clinking against one another. “Look at all the things they brought us.”

Sanji nodded, though he closed his eyes and didn’t look. “We will either use them or return them to the villagers as we can. They can use these much more than we can.”

“There is a small village to the north. I can have it sent there, if you like.”

“It’s your kingdom, Nebit. It is simply my palace and home.”

“I have a palace, as well, I am not impressed by yours.”

Sanji snorted back a laugh, looking over to Nebit. Despite how she came to be with him and all they had been through, he was thankful for her friendship. “It is most likely in ruin by now.”

“I’m sure it is.” Without elaborating further, Nebit stood, smoothing out her dress and stepping around the offering at their feet to walk out onto the floor of the room. Sanji watched idly, letting his eyes trail over the blue trim of the dress and watching the way the fabric swayed with every step Nebit took. She looked innocent, docile and meek, but Sanji knew better. He’d trained her himself to fight and he was pretty sure she could even best him in a fight if she truly put her mind to it. “Shall we go see how the feast is coming along, Prince Sanji?”

“Of course.” Standing, Sanji walked toward the doorway, Nebit falling in by his side. The awaiting feast would be just as hectic as the welcoming had been, louder, honestly, with all the food and the added addition of the palace occupants. It would also be much less formal, the palace and temple attendants mingling with the villagers, Sanji included. This wasn’t a time for him to act the part of a god, not like it was when a suitor came to call. These villagers, as well as the people of the palace, were family and he wouldn’t think to separate himself from them. His mother was all about love and family, as well as strength and battle. This feast was to honor her, in all aspects of her nature as far as Sanji was concerned, and that was exactly what he planned to do.


End file.
